


When it Rains...

by DesertZone



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Phobias, Robot/Human Relationships, Slow Burn, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:21:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24513007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertZone/pseuds/DesertZone
Summary: It pours.In search of shelter to escape the rainy night and the day’s prior events, Nick and the vault dweller stumble upon the old pre-War ruin of Mystic Pines. But the cold from the storm may affect her deeper than they know. Also, Dogmeat!Takes place after the side quest, “Human Error”.
Relationships: Female Sole Survivor & Nick Valentine, Female Sole Survivor/Nick Valentine
Comments: 14
Kudos: 72





	When it Rains...

**Author's Note:**

> Written from Nick Valentine’s POV, alongside my Sole Survivor, Caragan Lane. I’m a little new to this so bear with me and apologies if I don’t capture the notorious synth detective well enough. I went for a dark noir feel here to suit his character.
> 
> So I inevitably stumbled upon Covenant and had Nick with me (as always, however this was before I entered the Institute but had plans for the teleporter) so I decided to pay them a visit. The side quest Human Error was finished (I didn’t bring Dan with me, spared Doctor Chambers, and freed Amelia), but when I came back outside it was well past dusk and storming like mad. Desperate for a place to sleep the night off, I saw a building up the hill and checked it out hoping there would be some beds, and I found more than I bargained for. Inspiration for a good story.

Thunder rumbled far overhead, sounding like the downfall of a great mountain. Lightning struck from the heavens above, illuminating the nearby lake and hill beyond it, before the darkness swooped back in and the night resumed.

Accompanying these was a torrential downpour of rain. Sheets of rain came down in roaring waves, as a group of shadows emerged from the outflow pipe and stopped along the lake’s shoreline. Thunder crashed again in chase of the lightning, even louder than the last, until it was no more than an echo. As if it hadn’t already made its presence clear.

He moved his gaze to the skies, to squint through the storm at the dark swirl of clouds above, but Nick Valentine was forced to turn his eyes back to the ground when rain coated his face. Everywhere he looked there was nothing but rain, making it hard to see six feet in front of him. The sound of pouring rain filled his hearing, and even as he stood there, his trench coat darkened with drops.

Not only that, the air was truly frigid, chilled by the storm. He had no need for respiration, being a synth and all, but when he let out a breath it was a faint puff that faded away, like the cloud from a cigarette. The very thought nearly made him crave one. Yet he didn’t need to check his internal thermometer to tell that it was absolutely freezing outside.

The synth glanced to his side and saw his partner standing there, the renowned original vault dweller, Caragan Lane. She too had chosen to gaze up at the source of the storm, but instead remained there, frozen in place. With the gloom he could not read her face, like he normally could. She was one of those types where he could read every emotion written on her features like a book. It was almost as if she had never seen rain before.

The Commonwealth had certainly been yearning for some decent rainfall as of late, making this one of their drier winters. But he couldn’t recall her ever being in a storm like this at all.

As if sensing his concern and sharing his sentiments, Dogmeat shuffled over to lean against her leg. He whined for attention, expressing a similar worry.

Caragan looked down, seemingly shaken out of her reverie. She reached down to pet his head between his ears and satisfy his need for attention.

“Pretty nasty storm, huh boy?” she said. He whuffed, making it even harder not to believe that this mutt somehow understood conversation.

But before Nick could say anything, Caragan turned to face him.

His ever swift sensors noted a hundred things in a moment. Yet he picked out the more important ones, like how she crossed her arms and how her posture seemed to retreat within itself a little, how her shoulders bent slightly more than normal, how he noticed a beginning shiver, how she formed that resolute look on her brow he was starting to recognize. Even though he could not see into her eyes because of the night, he could tell the rain was already affecting her.

Things like the wet and cold didn’t bother him much. He mostly ignored the warnings his system gave off unless it was extreme. But she was still human, and required human things, like a roof over her head and a warm bed to stave off the night.

A strange feeling stirred in the pit of his chest, near where his heart would be if he had one. It was a feeling he was realizing more often, especially around her. A perpetual reminder of what he was.

She paused for a moment, looking into his eyes. Nick blinked at her and realized how stark his glowing optics must be in this darkness.

“It’s wet, and it’s cold, and I want to get out of this storm. So let’s get the hell out of here. I want to put as much distance between me and that cesspool as I can,” she told him. Her eyes wavered. He didn’t blame her. Not many could hold his piercing gaze.

And he didn’t have to look behind him to know what place she meant.

“You won’t hear a single complaint from me,” Nick said. “Lead on.”

She needed no further encouragement; with a nod she started up the hill surrounding the lake. Caragan often took point when they traveled together. Dogmeat would trail ahead of them, with Nick watching their backs. They fell into their usual pattern, and as the mutt ran ahead, Nick followed close behind her in their climb up the hill. With such heavy rain pouring down their backs, making it even more difficult to see in the pitch black of the night, he stayed near his partner for fear of losing sight of her in the storm. _Then_ they would have a real problem.

The group turned their back to the lake, trailing up the slope and leaving the outflow pipe behind them to their left.

Caragan usually carried her Minutemen blue backpack with her, stuffed to the brim with necessary supplies and random junk that she gathered for repairs. Other than her scoped rifle slung across her back and her pistol in its holster, she always sported that notorious blue vault suit, clad in a mismatching set of combat and leather armor. It accented the shape of her body in ways that he could not help but notice. However he was still a gentleman at heart, and he did his best not to visibly notice while in her company. She was still his friend.

Several flares of lightning sprawled through the night and were followed by peals of thunder. Nick took advantage of each strike, trying to scrutinize their surroundings as they continued forward. He saw the looming shadow of something curved far overhead, a darker shape against the clouds, most likely an old overpass. He peered hard through the obscurity of the rainfall at the area in front of them, in order to keep an eye out for any prominent shapes or buildings, perhaps. But he saw nothing. When the lightning flickered, all he could see was the yawning hill before them, rising out of sight.

Trying to find the way in this storm was useless. Any visuals were a nill. If somebody chose to ambush them and take them by surprise, there was no better time to do so. Everything about the situation screamed unsafe to him, at least to the parts of him that had gone through training as a cop. Nick knew he had to do something about the situation in order to ensure they were safe again. Not only his safety, but most importantly, hers, and the mutt’s as well.

He took a glance at her backside, noticing her hurried pace and thinking that the same thoughts were probably running through her mind as well. He knew that she felt it was her responsibility to lead them safely. But they were partners, and he had a say in this, too.

“You know,” he started, “usually I would let you drag yourself on and travel far into the night, against my better judgment.” He had to raise his voice a tad just to hear himself through the rain. She turned her head to listen, though she kept her pace. “But on a night that’s more awful than stumbling unaware into a super mutant nest, we have to find shelter. Like, soon. I may be waterproof but I know this is no walk in the park for you, either.”

Caragan shook her head, as if she had actually planned on continuing through the storm. Rain glittered along her dark, shoulder-length hair.

“I’ll be fine, Nick. But yes, you’re still right.” She raised a hand to gesture at the pouring sky, no doubt catching a few raindrops on her hand. “This sucks. I can’t remember being caught in a storm this bad since, well, before the War. Some place warm, and not soaking wet, and not inhabited by assholes who think it’s okay to torture innocent people, would be nice to find.”

Even in the darkness, he could see her grimace.

“Me and you both, doll,” he said softly. It was all he could say.

Even he couldn’t help but scowl as his memories grazed across what had happened just earlier that night, not several hours ago. Remembering the occasional firefights with the guards within the underground facility. Bullets whizzing past his hat and twanging as they ricocheted against metal behind him. His mind’s eye flashed with the sight of her picking up a holotape from one of the abandoned rooms, her listening to it, him seeing the color leave her face at the sounds of the innocent man on the tape screaming at being tortured by scientists who no doubt viewed him as their test subject.

He remembered their small argument with one of the final living souls in that hole, Doctor Chambers, and how Caragan refused to kill her off too, because she didn’t put up a fight and wasn’t even armed. Remembering how relieved his partner was at finding Amelia alive, as they watched the girl escape before them. Stepping over the corpses of the guards on their silent way back out.

Nick suppressed a shudder. He had seen some gnarly stuff in his long lifetime, being no stranger to the cruelty of human nature. But after seeing the things they did down there to people, in search of his own kind, it was sickening. He felt sympathy towards her, because he knew how it must have affected her as well, even if she tried not to show it.

Like splashing a hand through murky water, he rid his thoughts of the awful memories of the night, at least for now, and continued forward.

The both of them carried on, now silent under the storm. Rain pattered down everywhere, and as Nick trudged ahead, he noted how his hat and most of his trench coat had become soaked. Dogmeat circled back around to dutifully sniff at his more intact left hand. He saw that the mutt’s coat was drenched by the rain as well, at least where his fur wasn’t covered by the makeshift plated armor Caragan had given him. Nick looked ahead towards his partner, who was focused on the slick earth before her, trailing just ahead of him with her head bent under the rain.

They needed shelter badly. Now that they were all truly sodden, it was only a matter of time before the cold set in. Yet again, he found himself worrying for Caragan’s health, something that he did more often these days. He wondered if he was just growing soft, or if she was trying to take on more than she could carry.

The company of three made it halfway up the hill, and they passed near shapes in the darkness that must have been the base of the overpass. His head was on a swivel, turning to watch their backs, and inspecting their surroundings for anything promising. Nick watched Dogmeat trail ahead of them again, looked beyond the dog, and then he saw it.

He kept his confident stride as he squinted hard at a large white shape just barely visible in the gloom of the night. The blocky shape of a building.

“Hey, I see something,” he called, grabbing her attention. She slowed and glanced at him. “Look just up ahead. Looks like a building, but it could be anything.”

She stared through the curtain of rain and then she saw it as well. Now that they were closer to it, they could spot it in the distance, what appeared to be the backside of a building, painted white long ago. A row of broken windows faced the lake.

“Checking the place out wouldn’t hurt,” Caragan said. She started forward once more, her pace eager now. “If it’s not what we’re looking for, we’ll move on. But I just really hope that there’s a bed and a roof without holes in there somewhere.”

Nick followed her pace.

“What, and miss out on that good old Commonwealth hospitality?” he smirked. “Next you’ll be asking for a bathtub and heated showers.”

That drew a short laugh from her, warming inner parts of him he didn’t know could be warmed. At least he was good at making her laugh. That was one of his favorite things in this dark new world. He loved the sound of her laugh, and knowing that it was because of him. Something about it brought him such joy, deep inside. Such a wonderful sound despite the thunder of the storm. He was well aware of how fond she was of his humor, because she liked to make her own jabs back as well. A good sense of humor in these dark times was increasingly hard to find.

“Oh, damn, I almost forgot about those too. Plus the room service, with hot meals, and neatly made bed sheets. ‘Commonwealth hospitality’ has nothing on good old pre-War values.”

He chuckled. “You don’t have to tell me that one twice, doll.”

Nick kept close behind her as they progressed further up the hill. He could ignore the strain on his legs because he was a machine. But as they crested the slope, his partner instead leaned slightly into her gait. Caragan shook her head, most likely to keep her wet hair out of her face. She gripped one of her pack’s straps with both hands, adjusting its weight on her back. Dogmeat trotted happily nearby, as if running around in this rain and muck was one of the most exciting things to happen to him all week.

They must have finally walked under the overpass, because suddenly the rain slackened, and the cold of the night really settled in then. A gentle breeze wandered in, not helping against being sopping wet from the rain, and even Valentine felt an intense chill pass through him. Concern clouded his thoughts as he looked towards his partner again, and he saw how she crossed her arms and shuddered hard. That skin-tight vault suit of hers most likely wasn’t helping with the cold, especially after being rained on. He almost wanted to say something, his apprehension nearly getting the better of him. But he knew he had already expressed his worries and would just look like a distressed old fool if he fretted over her anymore. He could only do so much, but he still felt helpless.

Yet she didn’t say anything either, and they left the temporary safety of the overpass, the rain resuming. That endless pattering was all he heard. With his head bowed to keep the rain out of his eyes, thanks to his hat, they finally neared the building.

Dogmeat sniffed the path ahead of them as they reached the very top of the hill, and the sodden earth leveled out. The terrible outflow pipe leading to deeper, darker things was far behind them. To their immediate left was the white building, its interior completely unknown.

Resolutely striding onward, probably just determined to get out of the storm, Caragan kept her head turned in the direction of the building. He imagined she was squinting through the rain in an attempt to see what was inside. The place was dark, unlit; each opening and window were in shadow.

As they neared the place, Nick sensed a sudden, inexplicable tension, seeing his partner move her hand to her side. The mutt fell back closer to them, seeming to intuitively know what was going on as well. Nick’s glowing eyes caught her unclasping the handgun at her hip and taking it from its holster, gripped now in her right hand. He quickly followed suit by reaching inside his coat to brandish his own pistol, moving forward to flank her. Caragan glanced over her shoulder at him and jerked her head towards the building without a word, at a side patio that led to a dark doorway.

He knew the drill, and so did she.

They did excellent together as partners. He couldn’t count the number of times in the past where scuffles and gunfights had broken out, where they had encountered some pretty close calls, only for her to pull of her part well and leave enough room for him to get his work done, too. Nick was only getting more and more impressed with how she handled herself in this wasteland, yet still somehow retaining her pre-War softness that the ‘Wealth just couldn’t sand down.

It was lucky, he thought, with the both of them working in law enforcement in the past before the War, if being a lawyer was considered part of law enforcement. Regardless, she seemed to prefer being more “in the field” like he did. He considered himself lucky she was on his side.

Instead of circling around the front of the building and potentially revealing themselves to any unwelcome inhabitants inside, Caragan chose to lead them silently through the side. She did her best to lead them with utmost logic and safety, keeping them all out of harm’s way, at least until harm noticed them.

Her light step was completely unheard in the rain as she went to clamber up the side of the patio, carefully standing out of the doorway’s view. Nick followed close after, and the mutt went to dash towards the front of the building. He would take out any unawares found there, if any at all.

They stood under the roofing over the patio, and the freezing rain no longer poured down their backs. Caragan pressed herself against one side of the doorway, while he moved to the other and watched her, waiting for her command. She met his piercing topaz gaze.

“Be careful,” she murmured. “Most of these places we find are usually empty but we still need to be safe.”

“I’ll cover you, don’t worry,” said Nick, his voice soft. Despite the deep gloom of the night, he saw her face lift in a smile.

But it disappeared as quickly as it came, as in situations like these she tended to be all business; maybe it came with once being a lawyer in the past. Readily gripping her pistol with both hands, the vault dweller peered around the doorway, wary. When nothing immediately dangerous caught her attention, she took an extra scan in search for any tripwires or motion sensors linked to waiting explosives, then walked through the doorway. The detective was right on her tail, his watchful eyes pointed on wherever she wasn’t looking at.

The two stopped and paused to look around. They had stepped into a main part of the building. To his left was a spanning hallway leading to darkness. But to his right was an open reception room. From where he stood with her, he could see all the way to the edge of the room and then past it, where the hallway circled around.

Dogmeat trotted inside through the front and approached them, ears slightly downturned, his tail wagging when they both glanced at him. He continued past them, and wandered into the hall that they faced after walking inside.

This room that they had entered was dark, but an oil lantern still somehow smoldered atop an ancient record player near the front door. Also near the front was a trashed reception desk, a sitting area equipped with torn up sofas, a decrepit TV set, a table and some chairs in pieces, and a few dressers and armoires. Everything was demolished and coated in a thick layer of dust, but so far, the place was empty.

They weren’t out of the weeds yet, however. After taking another cursory glance over the room, making sure it was safe, Caragan followed after Dogmeat, with Nick right behind her.

They passed the reception area into the circular hall, passing by an open courtyard on their left and a few dark rooms along their right. She peeked in each room for only a moment, showing that nothing unwelcome was in there, that it was clear. The hall turned left, and they walked past several more cramped bedrooms on their right. To Nick’s left was another destroyed couch, underneath a window that led to the courtyard, but they slowly tread past it. Still nothing yet so far.

The hallway turned left again, but they stumbled upon another open area. They were now in the very back of the building. No lights were found here either, in contrast to the lantern near the front.

Thunder crashed again, seeming to rumble throughout the very foundation of the building, and right after it came the lightning. Light flared briefly throughout the place, flooding in through the broken windows and illuminating the greenhouse that was the back of the building. With the flash of light he saw rows of tables, a few discarded planters, smashed pottery lying around.

Dogmeat paused and hunkered down to scratch behind his ear, always exuding the image of innocence. Caragan walked forward into this area and stopped, inspecting the place. The wary tension they had all felt from before was practically gone by now. Nick noticed it fleeing her form, the hand holding her gun now at her side, calm but ready.

Moments of silence passed, and the sound of the rain dripping down onto the glass seemed louder than ever before. For a few seconds he stood there, glancing upwards through the broken windows, listening to the sound of constant pattering that was somehow soothing.

Then he realized that his partner was just as motionless and he looked to her instead, knowing that when she was this still and silent, she was often thoughtful. He watched her and waited, willing to be patient for her forever. Or at least until however long his mangled body lasted.

Caragan seemed to remember where she was and her eyes found his once more. In the dim Nick could see the glow of yellow from his optics reflected in those silver eyes of hers, and he had begun to suspect then that he was falling hard. Maybe he had already fallen for her. He would be perfectly fine with staring into those deep mirrors for eyes for eternity.

“This place seems… almost familiar,” she said, her voice soft. He recognized that faraway look her eyes got, how she sounded almost wistful. Like she was back in her own time again, lost to the present. She looked around. “Maybe it’s the architecture or something, I don’t know. But… something about this place seems… pre-War. Don’t you think?”

Valentine followed suit and paused to look around as well, trying to take note of their surroundings more. Now that she mentioned it, it did sort of make sense. Everything covered in dust, the overall dilapidated state of the furniture… How the make and model of everything seemed to be built from a time different than now. Raiders and settlers certainly didn’t have such a taste as this place held. She was right.

“Feeling a little homesick, are we now, doll?” he remarked in good humor.

“Hey, you know I’m right, though.”

He smiled at her. “And you know I’m just pulling your tail, too. You’ve got a solid point going. This place was most likely built from before the big day when the bombs dropped. Good eye,” he praised.

She ducked her head and smiled back, and if he weren’t mistaken with the dim of the room, she might have blushed a little, too. It was how he could tell that she truly appreciated such praise.

That feeling stirred in his chest again, but he forcefully ignored it. Not now.

Caragan paced around the room, and noticed the broken pottery littering the small greenhouse. Her demeanor was obviously curious.

“What do you think a place like this was used for, though?” she asked him. “This greenhouse here, the reception room near the front, all those little rooms filled with the tiniest of beds and various wheelchairs… Everything is so, minimal, I guess. But the greenhouse here is almost meant to distract from something, to relax from the actual matter at hand.”

Nick stepped up towards one of the tables, keeping her in the corner of his eye. He noticed her cross her arms, and she was shivering still. Nothing escaped his gaze, but he said nothing about it just yet. Dogmeat watched them curiously as well.

“Beats me, honestly.”

She gave a scoff of a laugh. “C’mon, Nick, you’re the detective here. Sleuthing abilities give you the slip?”

He shrugged in response.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s a retirement home, or some sort of rehabilitation facility? There’s not many places I know of in the Commonwealth that still contain those old wheelchairs, besides the abandoned hospitals. Miss I-seem-to-have-forgotten-I’m-the-detective’s-partner.”

She grinned back at him. “Okay, touché, detective Valentine. But a retirement home would definitely explain the layout of the place.”

He nodded in agreement. The synth took a moment to glance over his shoulder, behind him towards the darkness of the empty hall, the remainder of the building they had not explored yet. When he looked back and saw her shiver again, that was the final straw. She met his steely gaze.

“I’ll make sure the rest of the building is safe,” he said shortly. “You stay here.”

That resolute look was back and her brow furrowed, her clear gray eyes narrowing, the idea of staying behind obviously unheard of and absolutely preposterous. He loved the gal, but damn was she stubborn.

“Nick, you know as well as I that if, worst case scenario, something happens and I’m not there to help –”

“You’re cold, doll,” he cut her off gently. “Hell, even Dogmeat can probably tell that you’re freezing.”

Valentine gestured to the mutt and he whined in response. Her adamant gaze softened, and she failed to suppress yet another shudder as she turned her eyes away from his piercing glare, helpless to deny the truth.

“If you try to push off the cold any longer it’ll make you sick, and then we’ll have an even bigger problem on our hands. You can’t save the world when you’re cold and sick. Sorry, doll, but somebody has to say it before you end up dead.”

Caragan shook her head. “No, you’re right. I’ll be okay, just…”

She finally glanced up, and he was met with eyes that showed fear. Silver eyes like mirrors emanating a terror so profound that Nick nearly felt her dread well up in his own chest and threaten to take his breath away. There it was again, that strange feeling that made him want to feel human but ever so terribly reminded him that he was not, and this time he couldn’t ignore it. She was scared, and he finally saw it. But why?

She finally gathered the right words. “Just be safe. Please.”

To try and ease her, not to mention his nerves as well, Nick smiled. He could tell it worked at least a little, because her tensed posture relaxed just the slightest bit, and she attempted a smile back. That was enough for him.

“I always am.”

Gripping his pistol in his claw of a hand, he turned from his partner and the mutt, and purposefully advanced down the hall. Behind him, he could hear the faintest hint of relief, hearing the sound of her setting down her pack and finding a seat, with the subtle click of Dogmeat’s claws as he no doubt settled somewhere near her. Above all else, at least Nick was consoled with the fact that the dog would definitely keep her safe from any immediate harm in his absence. The mutt followed her around and stuck to her like glue, since the moment he’d met her.

Softly, thunder rolled outside, grumbling throughout the building. But the groaning of the storm only echoed in his ears, and wasn’t followed by any lightning this time, leaving him to warily pace ahead in the obscurity of the dark hall.

But thankfully it was short, and the hallway turned left for the last time, leading to the corridor where they had entered not too long ago. Pistol ready at his side, he saw a faded blue door to his right before the hall turned. Nick reached out with his other hand to try it, only to find that the handle stuck and it was locked. Another time, then.

He turned from the locked door and strode down into the shadows of the corridor, passing by shattered windows. On his left, he only needed a glance to find several more of those cramped bedrooms that this facility loved so much. The detective walked slowly past those, and then he was at the doorway where they had come in through earlier. After a scan of the reception room again, he turned to peer out through the doorway, and listened to the placid thunder lingering outside. Nick was grateful that they had finally found a safe, empty place to give them shelter from the storm.

But now that they were out from under the rain, there was the matter of getting dry and warm, somehow. At least he knew for certain they were truly alone in this abandoned retirement home, or whatever it was. He opened the side of his coat to restore his pistol to its holster against his torso, and went to return to his partner, gradually walking through the dark halls back toward to the greenhouse.

Nick rounded the corner, approaching the place where he had left her, but… He stopped in his tracks. Shock formed in his gut as he found that Caragan was nowhere to be seen. The mutt was gone as well. Where the hell did she get to now? A scowl overtook his features; her tenacity was going to get herself killed someday. Didn’t he tell the dame to stay put?

The synth was beginning to overthink the situation, assuming the worst. He almost thought to reach for his gun again when a scraping sound reached his ears, to his right. There was another doorway there, and he swiftly strode over to it, glaring around the corner into the courtyard exposed to the rain.

He couldn’t help the pure relief that flooded his systems when he found her there, Dogmeat staring curiously at her with his head cocked to the side, as she dragged a beat up metal barrel out from the courtyard. Well, she was trying to. His partner hadn’t noticed him yet, her back bent against the rain. Oh hell. He should have known better than to tell her to stay put.

“Find any good loot in there, or what?” Nick demanded, his voice raised over the rain. He wasn’t able to keep a harsh note from seeping into his tone.

She actually jumped, and dropped the thing with a slight clang, whipping around to blink at him with a sort of deer caught in the headlights look. He stood in the doorway imposingly, glaring at her maybe a bit more sternly than he should have.

“Nick! You scared the hell out of me. I-I was just…” she started, then sighed when her words failed her. “It’s just, this barrel looked like somebody had maybe started a fire in it at one point. I was trying to drag it back into the greenhouse, maybe start it up and get a fire going somehow, so the smoke wouldn’t pour anywhere else. I figured lighting it out here would just be useless, under the rain.” There it was again, she wrapped her arms around her middle and trembled _hard_. Oh hell.

He let out a gentle sigh, making efforts to soften his gaze and his voice.

“Sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to give you a fright. You are making it pretty damn clear, however, that you’re freezing cold and just hurting yourself.” At this she looked away; clearly he had hit the nail on the head. “Look, I’m here too, all right? We’re partners. It’s okay to ask for help.”

“All right. Sorry, Nick.” She still averted her gaze, seeming regretful.

It was often that he had to remind her that she had no need for independence, when he was right there to help her. Guilt struck his metaphoric insides, though he couldn’t exactly place why. He couldn’t help but feel guilty when he had to urge her to be more careful at certain times. He cared for her, but damn was she stubborn.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. Now, let’s get you out of the rain, all right?” Nick gestured with his good hand to the doorway, the safety of shelter. “Go, sit down. I’ll take care of this for ya.”

She gave a tiny smile when she saw his, and left the courtyard with Dogmeat trailing close behind her. His gaze nearly wanted to linger on her backside as she walked out of the rain, but he tore his eyes away. Mentally kicking himself for not keeping his head in the game, he turned to the task at hand.

It wasn’t something he liked admitting, but physically, Nick was much stronger than any normal human being. He could usually hold back and keep it to himself when needed, but he could also exude formidable strength when needed as well. One of the perks of being a mechanical creation and all that. But now his physical prowess surely came in handy.

He crouched and grabbed the rusty metal barrel by its middle, wrapping his arms around it, and standing up with the thing, he hoisted it against his side. To him, the thing really wasn’t that heavy at all, it weighed just about the same as Dogmeat did.

Nick walked out of the storming courtyard just as thunder rumbled far overhead. He strode into the greenhouse, carrying the fire barrel, greeted by a rather surprised look from Caragan. She sat perched neatly on one of the stools surrounding the tables.

“Jeez. Way to rub it in, Nick,” she chided with a smile. At least the rain and the cold hadn’t leeched the sense of humor from her.

He walked over and set the barrel down with a loud clash, echoing throughout the building. Then he straightened, making a show of stretching his rusty joints out, unable to help his knowing grin.

“When the Institute implements you with super-human strength, too, you come let me know.”

“That’s almost unfair! I didn’t know you were stronger than any human.” She now seemed fascinated, with that inquisitive look in her eyes whenever the subject appeared concerning his origin and, well, what he was. He couldn’t deny that it made him quite nervous, what with a human being so interested in him. Most other humans he knew wanted him shot on sight.

“Tricks of the trade,” Nick said simply, letting the inquisition roll over his shoulders with an easy shrug.

He walked out of the room, putting an end to that troublesome set of questions, heading into the courtyard again. Squinting through the rain, he wandered through the dead foliage, picking through it until he found enough bramble that seemed dry enough for the job. Then he left the yard though the other side, ending up in the reception area. He combed through there as well for discarded papers, worn down nearly to dust by the effects of time. With his armful of makeshift kindling, he hurried back through the rainy courtyard, back to his waiting partner.

Caragan was quiet, and watched him instead, clearly curious. He left his pile of kindling on the ground next to the barrel and stood before it, peering inside. The interior of the barrel was blackened, scorched by previous fires, and a nasty pile of ash filled it about halfway. Nick pulled his damp trench coat sleeve up his arm to the elbow, fully revealing the exposed mechanics of his right forearm.

Just then, thunder and lightning crashed together, a pure cacophony of sound and blinding light. The lightning blazed in through the windows, shining upon his metallic arm, illuminating every cord and wire and every damn strip of metal on his arm. He looked down at it, pausing as the rain continued to patter overhead, inspecting his forearm in the brief light. As if he had never seen it before in his life until now.

And it seemed like neither did she. He could practically feel her stare burning into him, locked onto his robotic arm, with that curious gaze of hers that he noticed every time she thought he wasn’t looking. That strange feeling ticked in his chest again, making his form stiffen, but he bore it down and did his utmost to ignore it. The sheer difference between machine and human was clear. _There was no way she didn’t notice that_ , he thought.

He tried his best to ignore the obvious tension between them, one that wasn’t negative but felt charged like the electrical currents that ran through his systems. Nick remembered where he was and what he was doing with a slight start.

With his claw of a hand, he reached down into the barrel, using his metallic fingers to route through the ash. Those sharp tips proved useful in combat, but also for other purposes, when he needed to get his hands dirty. He shoved it all to the sides as best he could, clearing enough room to form a small crater in the center for the fire. Straightening, he went to sort through his pile of kindling, wadding the papers into a pile in the barrel, then covering it with branches. He fumbled through his coat pockets for his flip lighter, and eventually, a small fire began to form within the barrel.

As warm light began to emanate throughout the room, he pulled his coat sleeve down his arm, self-conscious of his more mechanical parts. Caragan stood from her seat, gathering her worn out blanket that she usually carried in her bag. With it thrown about her trembling shoulders, she moved closer to the sparking fire. Nick remained there too, watching their makeshift fire grow slowly in size, until the flames licked hungrily at the side of the barrel minutes later. Even Dogmeat padded over to sit next to her, and for a while they just stood there, letting the fire warm their bodies and dry their clothes. The only sounds were the rainfall and the crackle of the fire.

Suddenly she glanced up at the broken windows next to them, then to Nick.

“Do you think this makes it easier for anybody to see us in here?”

The synth turned his topaz gaze to the windows as well. “Probably not. I don’t think even the worst creatures of the Commonwealth would dare venture out in this storm.”

As if to accent his words, another rumble of thunder came.

“I really hope not,” she said. Nick’s eyes were on her again as she moved to sit on the floor, back against the wall under the windows, moving as close to the fire as she possibly could while still shuddering.

He followed suit, and they both sat near the growing fire in the barrel. Dogmeat reclined near her feet, head on his paws, his eyes falling closed.

Nick inspected her out of the corner of his eye as he pretended to listen to the rain. Really, he was becoming more concerned for her. Minutes had passed, she should have grown warm from the fire by now, but still seemed cold. She appeared distant to him; no jokes, no idle chatter, no comments like usual, nothing. For a moment he chanced a look into her eyes, only to see that faraway look, gray eyes frozen like ice.

“You’re still shivering, doll,” he said softly. She glanced at him and then away, but there it was again, that terror in her eyes. Something was clearly wrong still. Moments passed before she finally responded.

“I… I just, can’t seem to get warm.” Her voice had a slight tremble.

Damn it. There she was, freezing and needing the comfort of warmth, maybe needing somebody to keep her warm. And there he was, unable to provide anything at all. Damn his cold, mangled body.

He resisted the overwhelming urge to move closer to her and slide an arm around her waist, and instead gave her a concerned stare. She looked away, knowing how much she was possibly worrying him.

“Are you gonna be all right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she responded and met his eyes, that telltale automatic response. The same thing she told him when he first asked that question, during her first week in the wasteland. “I know I’ll be fine. I mean, I’ve been through worse.” She laughed, but it sounded hollow, and nearly sent a chill through him. “It’s just…” A sigh. Her gaze wavered in hesitation, as she was obviously uncomfortable with treading on what she was about to say next. He watched her, waiting, as patient as a hundred-year-old synth could be.

“I don’t know how to say this. I feel scared.” Her eyes were still turned away.

“What do you mean?” he asked softly. “What are you scared of?”

While concerned, this intrigued him. He was getting closer. Nick knew her heart must have been pounding in her chest, his fine-tuned sensors could almost hear it. She would not meet his piercing gaze. More moments passed, then she found her words again.

“It sounds dumb.” She crossed her arms. “You’d laugh at it.”

“I promise I won’t, doll. What is it?”

More silence. “I’m… I think I’m scared of the cold.”

He blinked in response, a little surprised. Surely that wasn’t what he was expecting. But it was definitely nothing to laugh over. He could tell she was taking great strides in order to admit this inner fear to him.

“There’s nothing wrong with being scared. But, what makes you feel that way?” said Nick.

“I don’t know, it’s just this weird feeling I get, every time I get cold.” He saw her grimace. “Something in my mind urges me to bundle up, to get rid of the cold, just get rid of it and get away from it. But I know it’s not right, it feels… irrational. Like I can’t control it. Like something wants to keep telling me that if I get colder then I’ll die from it, I’ll just keep getting colder and colder until my body can’t handle it anymore and just…” She paused again. He didn’t want to interrupt her train of thought, and kept quiet.

“And then I can’t stop thinking about _it_. That damn vault. I still remember the shock once the door closed and sealed shut over my face as everything froze over and all I knew was white. For _years_. I’ve never known a cold so deep.” Her breath cut short as she shuddered hard, as if being stuck in that very same vault again. “The _fear_. And then finally making it out, just feeling like I could never get warm again, that all I would know for the rest of my life would be the cold. Seeing all those faces of the dead frozen over with the fear of their last moments and speckled with ice –”

Hell, even he could barely take it anymore. He cut her off. “Doll, stop, it’s all right. It’s okay. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

That strange feeling tapped in his chest, but this time it brought him pain, as if he had a heart again and a deep ache had routed its way in there. An icy grip.

Caragan was silent. She stared at the ground with her silver eyes of pure ice, frozen in place, unwilling to meet his own. The lady of ice. Her gaze seemed so sad, and it nearly broke his heart to see.

“I’m sorry,” she said, always apologizing for things that weren’t really her fault. “That’s a lot to put on somebody’s shoulders like that.”

“Caragan, it’s okay,” he returned. “You’re fine. I mean, I’m the one who asked. And I don’t mind.” He finally had her attention again, her eyes on his. “I know it’s tough to think on. But have you ever considered that maybe what happened in the vault affected you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t like to think on what happened back there. It’s locked way back in that certain part of the mind where I try not to dwell on it.”

“My point exactly,” he said gently. “Unfortunately, I’ve seen it quite a few times throughout my cases. The victim encounters some sort of traumatic experience that leaves them mentally scarred, and they are ever afraid of going back to the source of those traumas. You were frozen in the vault, and escaped, but anything that reminds you of that same cold sends you right back to how you felt then. Doesn’t it?”

She looked away and nodded.

“Then that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that at all. I’m sure you know I definitely won’t judge you for it either. I don’t blame you one bit, after what you went through.” This drew her gaze back onto his, with those sad gray eyes. He smiled a bit, to try and lighten the situation. “Hell, if I know you well enough, I’m certain you won’t let some irrationality like that overrule your life. I wouldn’t have suspected you of it one bit, if I didn’t know any better.”

She smiled back, her expression seeming to soften. He didn’t see the fear in her eyes anymore. “Thanks, Nick. I’m glad you understand. That really does help, a lot.”

“Certainly. Now, if you’ll keep my secret of having the personality of a pre-War cop, I’ll keep your secret of the fear of the cold. It seems fair to me.”

That made her laugh, and his worries began to fade as he saw that her mood was improving. Maybe he had helped after all.

Caragan shifted for a moment, trying to find a more comfortable spot against the wall, crossing her legs on the ground. Dogmeat raised his head at the slight disruption, but then he set his head back on his paws, closing his eyes again and seemingly falling back into slumber. The fire crackled heartily now, filling the slight quiet, accented by the pattering rain.

“Nick, I don’t think there’s any better place in the Commonwealth to give a diagnosis on mental instability.” With a slight laugh, she gestured to the walls around them.

“I don’t have the merit to do such a thing, however,” he said with a smirk. “Detective, not shrink, remember?”

He noticed that she no longer shivered, which caused relief to flow through his wiring. She was finally warming up.

A small silence fell between them, a lull of peace, that often accompanied their conversations. It was a comfortable type of silence, one that proved that perhaps they were finally safe, for now. They could relax and let their guards down, at least for a little while. It was nice, he thought, but most of all he could discern that she was truly comfortable with his presence. That was even more gratifying, in his opinion, than the relative calm of safety.

Nick kept his eyes to the broken windows above them, just watching the raindrops fall. With the combination of comforting sounds such as the snapping fire and the rainfall, he figured he’d probably be falling asleep on the spot, if he didn’t require it in the first place.

He considered sparking up the conversation again when he felt movement at his side, and utterly stiffened. Surprise welled in his gut, as Caragan shifted over to lean against his side from where she sat bundled up, her head gently resting on his shoulder. Oh hell.

She must have felt him tense, because she seemed to hesitate as if reconsidering her actions, appearing to wait for any rebuttal on his part. Conflicted feelings tore at his insides. He definitely was not a touchy person, and he almost wanted to take a hand and push her away. But then another part of him pleaded for more, wanting him to just sit there and let her wrap her arms around him if she wanted to. And he didn’t know which part he wanted to follow.

So for the time being he remained there, tensed in astonishment. He was unwilling to believe that any sane human being even wanted to touch him. Her head was turned into his shoulder, almost against his chest, so she probably couldn’t read how skittish he must have looked. His mind was reeling, wondering what he did to garner such attention, and he felt wholly relieved that he lacked the ability to blush.

“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked. As impish as ever, as if she somehow knew how much this was affecting him.

He nearly couldn’t find his words. “No doll, this is fine,” he said quickly.

“Good, I’d hoped so.” She actually shifted even closer, nuzzling into his shoulder. He was frozen, unable to help his uneasiness. Now _he_ was the deer caught in the headlights.

Nick noticed that she was definitely warm now, thanks to the fire and her ragged blanket. The warmth from her body seeped against him, melding with his own warmth. He felt her pressed against him, and he had to admit that it felt nice. He realized how glad he was that he didn’t decide to push her away.

“You’re so warm,” Caragan remarked in surprise.

“What, you thought every synth was a stone cold robot?” he chuckled, and this made her laugh. He reveled in how it felt, feeling her shift against his side. “You’d probably be surprised to learn that we’re well-heated. My machinery can get pretty damn toasty. It’s only expected for a machine to need proper cooling for the heat of their systems.”

“And like I’ve told you many times, you’re more than just a machine,” she said from her resting place against his chest. She yawned, the first sign of her drowsiness.

He paused, his tensed form finally becoming at ease. Eventually he was unwound because of her ministrations. With her leaning into his side, this wasn’t too bad at all, he thought to himself.

“You’re pretty warm too, doll.”

This drew a pleased sigh from her; but she spoke no more. Nick rested his head against the wall at his back, his apprehensions fading the longer he stayed there with her. Once more a comfortable silence filled the room. Dogmeat was still sound asleep at their feet, the rise and fall of his haunches strangely soothing to watch. If the mutt was at ease, then maybe there really was nothing to worry about, at least in this moment.

When he glanced up at the windows above him again, he noticed that the storm’s intensity appeared to be in decline. There was no longer any booming thunder, nor strikes of light that blinded. The rainfall pattered softly now, with the wind howling along, crooning a melancholy tone.

Nick’s mind drifted, his thoughts always seeming to dwell on something, but this time he thought back on the events of their night so far. It was a relief but also an achievement to have felt like he was able to protect his partner, by helping her find safety when the situation had brought her fear. He felt his fondness for her growing by the minute, as they grew closer in their travels together to solve her big case. _But even then, even after all this blows over and she would have finally found her son, what then?_ he thought. Would that be the end of things? Would the case just be over and would they part their ways, leaving him to solve his other cases?

He closed his eyes in thought. No, he didn’t think it would be. When he opened them again he gazed at her, then at the dog. Nick most definitely didn’t want an end to this. A part of him deep inside wanted this companionship between him and his human partner to never end.

 _But, what then?_ he thought again. His gaze remained on her, his eyes watching her form breathing in a slow, relaxed manner. _What if she found out? About your… How you feel about her? What then, sleuth? She’s as good a sleuth as you. Will that end everything once and for all?_

The synth grimaced, keeping his eyes closed. He couldn’t help but feel guilty. He was at a loss, conflicted for what he should do.

Suddenly, Caragan jolted against his side, shocking him out of his thoughts. She put a hand on his leg to steady herself and was sitting upright out of nowhere. When he inspected her face, she was blinking with a rather tired look, her brows furrowed.

“God, I’m sorry,” she mumbled, seeming strangely ashamed. “I… I think I might have fallen asleep on you.”

Nick couldn’t help but smile. No wonder she had grown quiet for so long. “Hey, you’re all right,” he said. “Aside from your vow of silence, I didn’t have any idea you’d even fallen asleep in the first place. If you’re falling asleep on the spot, however, you should probably get some shuteye.”

She smiled back, and then came another yawn, as she stifled it. “Yeah, I’m beat. There’s always tomorrow, for us to get more stuff done.”

He stared at her. “After going through the ordeal that was Covenant? You may be traveling with me but you need your rest, too.”

“Okay, fine,” she sighed, rolling her eyes in an overly exasperated way that he knew was her way of joking around. “You’re not wrong, though. We can start heading back to Sanctuary first thing tomorrow. You know, gather our strength before we have to head out again.”

Caragan moved to stand, pulling off an impressive stretch as she did so, her blanket nearly falling from her shoulders. Nick got to his feet too, and Dogmeat was awoken by their movements. He blinked up at the synth, his ears pointed forward.

“Nothing will stop you from venturing through the great outdoors, will it, Caragan?” Nick chided gently. When she looked back at him, the slight look of amusement in his features told her that he didn’t mean it seriously.

She tried to respond with the same humor, but couldn’t, and started walking away from the greenhouse. “You know why I’m so determined to be out there, Nick.”

“I know.” Now he grew serious too, following her. “And you know I’ll keep my promise to you to help you find your son.”

With her blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, she grabbed her pack by one of its handles. Caragan moved towards the left corner of the room’s edge, where the hall with the cramped bedrooms awaited her. Nick stopped at the edge of the hall by the greenhouse, while she peered into one of the rooms, clearly scrutinizing it. Then she turned her head, glancing at him.

“I think this one will do fine. The rooms may be small, but the bed doesn’t seem to be in bad condition, with only a few springs jutting out here and there. The bed frame even looks like it won’t snap upon the first sign of weight.” Her eyes held his for a moment. “You sure you’ve got things out here?”

“I’ll keep guard, promise,” he said with a smile. “Plus, we’ve got Dogmeat, too.”

That seemed to be reassurance enough for her. She returned the smile. “Good night, Nick.”

“Good night, Caragan.” He watched her as she disappeared into the room. And sure enough, Dogmeat strode past him, his claws clicking upon the wood floors, as he followed his master faithfully.

His thoughts beginning to wander again, Nick turned from the hall and returned to the greenhouse. The fire in the metal barrel was dwindling now, only a few small sparks remaining within, barely illuminating the place. But he didn’t bother to light it again. He was just a machine that didn’t require heat for comfort like she did.

As his partner was gone to bed for the night, for a few moments he paced around the tables in the greenhouse, the silence of solitude never bothering him. He grabbed one of the stools there, and pulled it near the windows. Before he sat down, he watched the rain falling by outside in the gloom of the night, just watching the night pass by. A small sigh escaped him.

He definitely hoped with all his metaphorical heart, that this surely would never end.

Sitting down on his stool before the windows to the storm, Nick Valentine passed the rest of the night silently, deep in thought. The glow of his eyes reflected back to him, as the rain pattered upon the glass.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> I want to write a big realistic story with these two because gosh do I love Nick and I love them both so much. But this is something I wanted to use as inspiration for starting everything, one that revealed a certain part of her character. I wanted to explore a Sole Survivor that had gained frigophobia, a fear of the cold, after the events of Vault 111. Although, I had a lot of fun writing this and I can't wait to do more with these two in the future. Be still, my beating heart.


End file.
